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“You can cook." Eddie feels like he's uncovered a deep, dark secret.
"I can't be bothered to cook for one."
With that one sentence, Eddie can see years of dinners cooked and shared, and then all of it taken away. He already knows that Mark must have grieved—must have been grieving, the whole time they've known each other—but this might be the first time Mark's let him know it. He's pretty sure Mark will crumble into dust if Eddie tries to say something kind, so Eddie just brushes Mark's shoulder with his own. "Do you have an apron?" he asks.”
― You Should Be So Lucky
"I can't be bothered to cook for one."
With that one sentence, Eddie can see years of dinners cooked and shared, and then all of it taken away. He already knows that Mark must have grieved—must have been grieving, the whole time they've known each other—but this might be the first time Mark's let him know it. He's pretty sure Mark will crumble into dust if Eddie tries to say something kind, so Eddie just brushes Mark's shoulder with his own. "Do you have an apron?" he asks.”
― You Should Be So Lucky
“Maybe Mark is wrong. Maybe this swing will slip away from Eddie, or maybe it will settle into something just above marginal, something good enough but never great. He knows better than to count on good things lasting. But when he watches Eddie—when he sees that stern set of his jaw, and when Eddie flashes a grin toward the bleachers—Mark thinks he's seeing something that's for keeps.”
― You Should Be So Lucky
― You Should Be So Lucky
“I don’t mean to sound pessimistic. I only do because I can see how wrong my choices were. Don’t do it like this. Don’t enter believing yourself a node in a grand undertaking, that your past and your trauma will define your future, that individuals don’t matter. The most radical thing I ever did was love him, and I wasn’t even the first person in this story to do that. But you can get it right, if you try. You will have hope, and you have been forgiven. Forgiveness, which takes you back to the person you were and lets you reset them. Hope, which exists in a future in which you are new. Forgiveness and hope are miracles. They let you change your life. They are time-travel.”
― The Ministry of Time
― The Ministry of Time
“They sought me out, here I am. I don’t know how to let go of the dead.”
― Our Share of Night
― Our Share of Night
“It's a place I go to, even if nobody else can see that I've gone. I can smell it and certainly hear it, even if I can't always see it.
That's the problem with all those well-meaning people who try to comfort you by telling you that everything's okay, you're home now, and the war's over, as if you're the idiot who can't read a newspaper and see that an armistice has been declared. It's like telling someone that Greece is over, or England, or Russia. It's nonsensical. Places aren't ever over, except maybe Pompeii.
Still we pretend we believe it, all of us who sometimes fall over into that familiar place. Trying to explain that the war will never be over just makes you sound either mad or self-pitying, and makes your relatives look at you worriedly and pat your hand, and that's far more exhausting. You learn to just smooth over the conversation and get on with things. It doesn't even feel like a lie.
As long as you don't hurt anybody and don't act too obviously strange, most people will let it go. The other ones like you understand. We all realized long ago that we're dual citizens now, that we come from two different places.
Gallacia. And the war.”
― What Feasts at Night
That's the problem with all those well-meaning people who try to comfort you by telling you that everything's okay, you're home now, and the war's over, as if you're the idiot who can't read a newspaper and see that an armistice has been declared. It's like telling someone that Greece is over, or England, or Russia. It's nonsensical. Places aren't ever over, except maybe Pompeii.
Still we pretend we believe it, all of us who sometimes fall over into that familiar place. Trying to explain that the war will never be over just makes you sound either mad or self-pitying, and makes your relatives look at you worriedly and pat your hand, and that's far more exhausting. You learn to just smooth over the conversation and get on with things. It doesn't even feel like a lie.
As long as you don't hurt anybody and don't act too obviously strange, most people will let it go. The other ones like you understand. We all realized long ago that we're dual citizens now, that we come from two different places.
Gallacia. And the war.”
― What Feasts at Night
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